


Where Charity Stands

by DarkmoonSigel



Series: 2014 Advent fics [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas Tree, Dark Will Graham, Hannibal is Hannibal, M/M, Will Knows, advent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:19:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2708780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Small Christmas story set in the second season. Advent fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Charity Stands

**Author's Note:**

> advent fic for owlyjules on Tumblr. Still taking requests for December  
> Not beta read.  
> Title is from a quote by Phille Brooks.  
> "Where Charity stand watching and Faith holds wide the door;   
> the dark night wakes, the glory breaks-  
> \- And Christmas comes once more."

Where Charity Stands

Christmas at the Lecter household was nothing short of spectacular, the extent of which had even Will feeling more impressed than resentful. He had no idea where Hannibal found the time between his medical practice, fancy dinners, and being a cannibalistic serial killer to decorate his home with such vivid explosions of festivity and tasteful garlands. Will was willing to bet that the decorations only went as far as polite company was allowed to venture in and did not extend past places of public viewing. The idea of Hannibal owning anything with little snowmen on it did make Will snort into his champagne. Knowing Hannibal as well as he did, Will knew it was the real stuff from some obscure region in France and probably cost way more than he was personably willing to spend on imported fizzy grape water.

Keeping to his corner to keep others from annoying the hell out of him, Will told himself that he wasn’t hiding in plain sight from the rest of the party. It was clean and clear tactical thinking that kept the walls at his back to keep others from sneaking up on him. Because someone was going to murder him during Hannibal’s Christmas party held in Baltimore’s wealthiest neighborhood with some of the FBI’s finest in attendance.

“Fan-fucking-tastic. I can add paranoia to the list.” Will muttered into what laughing passed as alcohol for the moment. The delicate, mostly full crystal flute was taken from his hand to be traded out for a tumbler of amber. Will allowed it purely for the sake of the better booze. He tried not to think about what the other man was getting out of the brief skin on skin contact or the power play between them.

“Paranoia is only detrimental if it is unfounded.” Hannibal said softly, making Will look up from his bitter cup to glare openly at his host. He knew tongues would wag over this, because opinions were like assholes and everyone in this room was one. With his recent incarceration still fresh in mind, Will found that he wasn’t feeling too generous in the departments of forgiveness or social niceties. On the plus side though, no one was trying to chat him up anymore. Being known as ‘the guy who didn’t kill all those people but might have’ had some unexpected perks. “Paranoia in small, short doses is healthy. It clues us in on what could be a nearby threat, one that could remain unseen until the last moment.”

“You would know all about that.” Will smiled crooked, stepping back to put some space between them once again. Hannibal tended to linger too close for comfort if Will didn’t set boundaries. It was his own fault for being here though, smack dab in the middle of the spider’s parlor. Part of him still couldn’t understand why he had accepted Hannibal’s invitation, and Will was staunchly ignoring the rest of him that did. His life was complicated enough as it was. “Always the shadow creeping into the corners of eyes and setting the smaller hairs on the back of neck to stand on end.”

“It is a gift to know that I am never far from thought.” Hannibal murmured, looking far too pleased with himself. In his mind, Will took turns between versions of dismemberment as he kept a placid look upon his face, mimicking Hannibal’s own mask. He could make it festive by using ornaments or hell, even the champagne flute. Maybe decorate a tree with organs, or make angels in spilled blood, really the holiday offered so many options and variances on the theme.

“I wouldn’t feel too proud of that accomplishment. It is a false victory of your own making, your lies and manipulations alienating me from anyone who could have helped or cared.” Will said, turning away to note who was watching them. 

Always bold as brass, Jack had all the finesse and subtlety of a broadsword in a room full of rapiers. Dressed beautifully in royal purple, Alana was stunning in her ability to make small talk all while expressing concern for Hannibal and keeping a watchful eye on Will like he was going to attack the killer beside him at any given moment. Seemingly a glutton of punishment now that he had been gutted, Chilton was here as well, keeping Will in his peripheral. That man was always seemed to be in the right room at the worse moment, but always looking in the wrong corner. Will had done his good deed and pointed out where the devil in the dark was to them all. He couldn’t be held accountable for their bad decision, not anymore. You can lead horses to water but you can’t make those fuckers drink. 

Hannibal’s quiet displeasure of being informed that he cheated warmed Will as he let his gaze float beyond the people and activities going on around him. The monster pretending to be a man was such a sore loser. His attention finally settled on a tree not too far from him, the evergreen branches decorated with twisted lengths of black velvet, the fabric so rich in texture it looks wet. The dark background of it provided a stage for the rest of the tree’s ornaments, small golden things accompanied by what Will thought were bows at first glance. Upon closer examination, Will saw the ornaments were tiny bird skulls made metallic by gold leaf, and the ‘bows’ were actually crafted pieces of antlers, the bones bleached so white they seemed to glow in white gold Christmas lights.

It sometimes blew Will’s mind that no one had figured out that Hannibal was a serial killer, especially when his home décor practically screamed murder sheik.

“Does something about the arrangement bother you? You are wearing the most peculiar look.” Hannibal asked, allowing some concern to seep into his face though he was more curious than anything. Of late, Will had become quite good at hiding himself away from him. It only made Hannibal love the strange former profiler more, his man’s mind the gift that kept on giving. It was like life had given him a puzzle box to figure out and only upon doing so, found that the puzzle could reset itself to another new game, one that was even better than previous before it. At the moment though Will’s expression was a perplexing mixture of emotions, especially when placed in context with a decorative tree. Hannibal decided that being miffed as an odd enough reaction in and of itself, but the bewilderment and amusement were an interesting touch too. 

“Where the hell did you get all those humming bird skulls from and why would you think it was ok to put them on a Christmas tree?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Your kudos hang up stockings made from people, and your comments sips hot cocoa, also made from people.


End file.
